Second look
by Tashilover
Summary: In a world where wings can reflect the state of your heart, Martin sometimes wonders if he's a freak.
1. Chapter 1

It got embarrassing sometimes.

A lot of people seem to forget that love does not equal sex, but that doesn't stop them from associating growth with virginity. It does come as a shock sometimes when Martin spots children as young as five with full grown wings, but then has to remind himself children are just as capable of falling in love as any adult on the planet.

And can just as easily fall out of love.

It would make sense for a woman like Carolyn to have beautiful grown wings at her age. Hers have gotten grey over the years, but molted rather badly from heartbreak. With her newfound relationship with Hercules, her wings have grown new feathers, and were looking sharper with each new day.

Douglas has been married three times already, and despite the divorces, his wings were unnaturally huge. There has been recent damage to Douglas' secondary feathers from his recent breakup with Helena, yet Douglas wore the scar with pride. "There are always more fish in the sea," he said to Martin one day, shaking his feathers like a maraca.

Arthur was… an anomaly. It was understandable at his age, his growth would flux like the tides of the ocean, but it never did. His grown wings have stayed the same size, color, and condition since the very first day Martin had met him. He knew Arthur occasionally went on dates, had girlfriends, and broken up with them, but the young man's wings have always stayed the same, no matter what.

"It's because he never fell out of love," Carolyn finally explained to Martin after many months of employment. He felt rather secure in his position to ask this slightly personal question and hoped it didn't sound like prying.

"But he's not dating anyone."

Carolyn leveled him with a, you-are-stupid look. "You don't have to fall out of love to date, Martin."

"Then why isn't he with her?" Martin said, looking at Arthur through the glass windows of MJN's office. The young man was currently playing Connect Four with Douglas and losing every round. Martin then flinched, realizing the insensitivity of his question. "I-I mean… unless it wasn't reciprocated."

Another flinch. He may as well have asked if Arthur was a crazy person for loving someone who didn't want him.

"No," said Carolyn, sighing deeply. Her wings fluttered softly as she glanced over to Arthur. She smiled sadly. "It was reciprocated. Cassie was Arthur's true mate since he met her at sixteen."

"I-I don't understand… then why…?"

"Arthur still loves her to this day. It doesn't matter breast cancer took her away at the tender age of eighteen." Carolyn doesn't break, though her tone does. "Arthur's wings, I believe, will always look like that. No matter what."

There are many theories of how growth actually occurs. Some believe only true love can cause growth. Others believe it can be as simple as feeling your heart pound when that special someone smiles at you. And on the rarest of occasions, like Arthur, you may actually find your true mate, and spend the rest of your life with unblemished wings.

The truth though, no one really knows. No one knows why a child can have full grown wings while those twice the age do not. No one knows if it was possible to move past a true mate, or if it was truly possible to recognize it for what it was.

Just as Martin doesn't know why, at the age of thirty-two, his wings haven't grown not one. Damn. Inch.


	2. Chapter 2

A year and three months in the employment of MJN Air, Martin's wings started growing.

When he was younger and came home after a date, Martin would immediately go into the bathroom, lock himself in, and check his wings to see if they had grown. This small obsession of wondering if the girl he went out with was 'the one' caused endless masturbation jokes among his siblings.

His wings never grew, never got any shinier or softer as some did when experiencing a new love. He tried not to feel disappointed, thinking it'll just take some time, a little more effort on his part.

But as the years passed, Martin began to suspect something was wrong. There were plenty of girls he knew, he KNEW he liked. He wasn't a virgin, despite what some people thought. Martin can admit he'd never got to a point in a relationship where he felt he would want to marry, but at least would his wings indicate he liked the girl?

As Martin left his teenage years and went onto his twenties, he stopped checking his wing size. Looking at them made him depressed.

Fully stretched, they were still too small to be seen from Martin's front. Ugly little brown color, they were, thin and frail looking.

Today, Martin was bent over the sink, washing his face. He could feel his wings twitching softly, scratching the skin on his back as he scrubbed and he ignored them. His body demanded to be stretched, though Martin preferred to do his morning washings first. Toilet, toothbrush, face wash, shave.

He'd lifted his head, grabbed the towel that was dangling on a nearby rack and patted himself dry.

In the mirror, he saw his wings poking out from underneath his arms.

Martin jerked, not used to the sight of something behind him. He twirled, reaching back to grasp at his wing, gasping when his fist curled over his right one painfully.

It wasn't a cruel joke or a dream. His wings were growing.

His eyes grew wide and he covered his mouth with his hand. Martin was not prone to hysterical giggles, and yet could not stop them from tumbling out of his mouth.

He had long given up on his wings ever growing, thinking there was some abnormality in his genes that kept them from ever expanding. Martin stared at them in the mirror, feeling so damn giddy to know there was nothing wrong with them, that he wasn't a freak or an oddity. He was just as capable as anyone else on this planet to fall in love, and here was the proof. He was in love and-

…And…

Who was he suppose to be in love with again?

Martin frowned, thinking back on any recent developments occurring that might've caused his growth. The only woman he had ever shown a fancy for recently was Linda, though that was months ago. He was attracted to her, yes, though Martin doubted he ever loved her.

His wings had grown perhaps less than half a foot in length and width. (Still an achievement, in his opinion.) The ugly dark brown color was slowly giving way to a lighter shade, making it look less like shit and more like chocolate.

He flapped them once, testing the newfound muscles, and felt a thrill of bliss run through him. He could feel them growing.

But who? Who did he have to thank for this? Who was so wonderful and dear to Martin's heart, his soul finally decided it was time? Maybe it wasn't somebody at the airfield. Maybe it was someone during his rounds with his van. Or- hell- maybe it was one of the students downstairs. (He really hoped not. Those girls were way too young for him.)

Martin got dressed quickly, relishing how he was finally able to use the open spaces in his jacket to allow his wings to pass through. It doesn't matter who finally gave him this gift. Martin was going to find her and thank her.


	3. Chapter 3

Martin doesn't think he's been this happy in a long time.

His wings fluttered wonderfully against his back and whenever he stopped at a red light, he bent forward lightly to allow them to flap eagerly. By the time he made it to the airfield, he was positively bursting with pride, even as he strode past dozens of others with wings much larger than his.

"Good morning, Douglas," Martin greeted his first officer as he walked into MJN's waiting room.

Douglas did not notice him at first, too busy reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. "Morning," he politely said back, lifting his head. There was a tiny twitch when his eyes finally caught a glimpse of Martin's wings, still slightly hidden from behind the jacket. "Oh, I believe Captain Crieff has something to show me, does he?"

Martin grinned, turned around to display his back. His wings stretched out to its fullest length and- Lord, did they grow bigger since he got out of his van? It certainly feels like it.

"Congratulations, Martin," Douglas smirked. "Who is the lucky girl who has caught our valiant Captain's attention?"

Martin hesitated. "It's a secret."

Douglas threw him a sly look. "Martin…"

"I don't know, okay?" Martin doesn't know he cannot resist when Douglas used that tone of voice. "I don't know who she is. My wings just started growing this morning."

"Yes, that's a very common occurrence," Douglas said, rattling his newspaper and bringing his attention back to it. "I just hope she loves you back."

"Oh gee, thanks."

"I'm not trying to be mean," Douglas went on, even though he didn't at all sound apologetic. "It happens sometimes, despite so many people disbelieving in it."

"Yes, but this isn't some little crush or infatuation," Martin insisted as he sat down across from Douglas. "My wings are growing for a special reason, I know it. Maybe… maybe she's my true mate."

Douglas pointed at him seriously. "Be careful throwing that word around. You don't want to scare her off."

Martin shrugged. His wings fluttered by the movement and any self-doubt brought on by Douglas' words went right out the window. No, this person was special. She had to be.

"I'm going to find her," Martin declared out loud.

"Good luck," Douglas said. And then, in a smaller tone, "This should be fun."

()

Martin began with a list. People at the airfield, people in between the airfield, people he'd met with his van, and people near his home. In all, that provided about thirty women who were in his age range, women he knew he was attracted to when he first met them.

Then he began to cross out names based on variables. Anybody he hadn't been in contact with in the past month were crossed out. Anybody he talked to less than five minutes were crossed out.

That left him with five names. Two he then crossed out when he remembered they were lesbians. Another name crossed because- oh yeah- she was married. And the last name…

He crossed her out too. Abigail was very nice, very cute, but she was just a client from a week ago. She was now somewhere in America, and Martin had no idea where she was, or knew how to contact her. If declaring her as Martin's intended mate won't scare her off, telling her he stalked her across the Atlantic ocean certainly will.

Disheartened, Martin swept his arm out, pushing the paper with the crossed names onto the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite everything, his wings kept growing.

Little by little, new feathers grew in, the bones lengthened, and the color warmed. Martin found this rather peculiar because he read somewhere when rejected, a person's wings can actually stop in mid-growth. Why his kept growing even though there was no person in his life, he didn't know.

Take it as a blessing, he supposed. In a few short weeks his wings will grow large enough to be of use, and soon- soon he'll be able to fly.

The inability to take off from the ground nearly killed him when he was younger. It was bad enough to watch his siblings float and flap and gently glide even though their wings hadn't fully mature. It was worse when Martin got older, his wings never got any bigger, and the possibility to never fly bore down on him.

Martin was torn, knowing on some level it'll be many months more before he could ever realize who was special enough to give him his wings. Because that was how his luck always was. And yet he couldn't keep the giddiness out of his stomach each time his feathers ruffled as he leaned back in his Captain chair, allowing them to pass through the holes made exactly for them.

And within two months time, his wings were fully grown.

"Well," Douglas whistled as Martin strolled into MJN's waiting room early Monday morning. "Don't you look handsome."

Martin blushed, ducking his head to hide his burning cheeks and ears. He was smiling though, happier than words could say. His wings were now a brilliant light brown, complimenting his red hair and pale complexion. Before his growth, Martin was lucky when women gave him a second look. Today, as he strode through the airport, he was actually whistled at.

He knew he should probably feel indignant about that. Instead, he felt flattered.

"They're fully grown," Martin grinned, shaking the feathers. The new muscles flexed wonderfully. "I can't wait till I start flying."

"Oh?" Said Douglas, raising an eyebrow. "You got yourself an instructor, have you?"

"Um…"

A flying instructor was a necessity for new growths. Without proper teachings, an uneducated flyer could flub their wings in mid-flight. There were constant news reports of inexperienced people hitting unexpected wind drafts, breaking their wings and falling to their deaths.

A licensed instructor was not mandatory as many prefered to learn from their parents or friends. And though Martin hated the idea of going to Simon or Caitlin for instruction, he had no money to pay for a professional.

Douglas looked at his watch. "Hmm… it seems we have about two hours till take-off. Well, that should give us enough time." He tossed down his newspaper and began unbuttoning his pilot jacket.

Upon seeing this, Martin was jerked out of his thoughts, staring. "What are you doing?"

"You want to fly, don't you?" Douglas asked casually as he stretched out his wings. Martin backed up, the sight of Douglas' large wings taking up nearly the whole space of the porta-cabin. Martin had never seen Douglas stretch his wings so, and he had to admit, despite the grey, they were beautiful. "C'mon, I'll show you a few maneuvers at the OS."

()

OS stood for 'Open Space'. Every airport deigned a small, opened area for weary travelers to stretch their wings and fly temporarily. Many times Martin had walked past this area, watching dozens fly lazily to work out the kinks in their muscles.

He never thought he would be able to come here.

So early in the morning, the OS was fairly empty except for two, who were slowly drifting downward, finished with their flight. The airport had long stopped trying to plant grass and allowed the customers to tread till there was nothing but a field of dirt. Martin gingerly stepped onto the damp earth, letting the smell of wet feathers and fresh morning air wash over him.

"Okay, Martin," Douglas began, tapping Martin's right wing with the back of his hand. "Time to stretch. Wings out, as far as you can, and touch your toes."

Martin knew these exercises by heart, did them every day before school up until he realized his wings weren't growing. Taking a small breath, he stretched out his wings to their limit and bent over to touch his feet.

His balance was immediately compromised and he face-planted into the dirt.

Douglas, the ever loving bastard, threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Lord… don't give me that look, Captain. Balance is key in flying. If you can't find balance on the ground, how else are you going to find it up in the air?"

Martin scowled at him as he brushed the dirt off his face and dress shirt. "You could've told me I was going to fall over."

"Sorry, Martin, there are no shortcuts. Your body needs to memorize these movements. Now, do it again and this time, try not to break your nose."

By the time Martin learned to properly distribute the weight of his wings and touched his toes without falling over, he had a bloody nose, was red in the face, and streaks of dirt covered his cheeks. "Can I fly now?" Martin asked wearily, though he already knew the answer.

Douglas grinned. "No."


	5. Chapter 5

Martin knew he had to build up the muscles in his backs before he took actual flight. Of course he knew that, he read it so often in self-taught manuals, but it's been over three weeks. Three weeks of constant stretching and flapping exercises. And Martin was getting frustrated day by day.

It wasn't Douglas' fault but…

No. No, it was all Douglas' fault.

On some level Martin was internally grateful to the older man, glad to have a teacher without sacrificing an arm or a leg to pay for it. Everything would be perfect if Douglas didn't teach in such a _Douglas way._

"Oh, Martin. I've seen old ladies flap better than that. Really. But don't tell Carolyn I said that."

"If you can't hover at least ten feet off the ground, I get the brie. Ready? Go! Aaaaaaaaand… oh look, the brie is mine."

"Wow, I can honestly say you fly GERTI better than you can fly here, but not by much. Don't give me that look, Martin, it's a compliment."

It had been nearly four months since Martin realized he was never going to find his true mate. If that thought wasn't nearly depressing enough, spending nearly an hour a day with Douglas while he took such glee verbally cutting Martin down was torture.

Martin kept at it because he knew he needed to keep at it. The horrific, desperate need to fly overrode any hostility he felt towards Douglas and his constant put-downs. But as the third week slowly melted into the fourth, Martin one day found himself taking matters into his own hands.

He was already having enough of a stressful day. Four clients cancelled on him, one the students took a drunken piss on his van, and as he drove to the airfield, a cop pulled him over because his taillight was broken.

By the time he arrived to the airfield, he was already seething and was not looking forward to an hour's worth of Douglas' putdowns.

The portacabin was empty.

Of course it was. Martin was glad for this, not wanting to exchange simple pleasantries with Arthur or Douglas so early in the morning, so soon after getting the ticket. He was too upset to be nice to anyone, afraid he might just snap at somebody for something silly. He sat down in one of the plastic chairs (apparently wood chairs was too expensive for Carolyn) and the poor thing squawked under his weight.

But being alone also meant he had to sit here in the cabin, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for someone to come.

Martin leaned back in his chair, sighing, his wings fluttering softly in response. They indeed had gotten stronger over the past few weeks. He could feel the muscles when he touched them. He'll be ready to fly soon.

Martin scanned the empty cabin. It was unlikely Douglas was going to show for another hour, and neither Arthur or Carolyn was there to talk to him otherwise…

Despite no one was around to see him, Martin discreetly took off his jacket, his hat, placed them quietly on the table and whisked out the door.

()

The OS was thankfully isolated this time. Martin hated doing his warm-ups in front of others. It was bad enough so many passengers were witness to his face-planting. It was worse when many of them, younger than himself, giggled noisily as they left.

Feeling rather mischievous, Martin quickly went through his stretching exercises, too eager to begin. He shook out his limbs, rattled his fathers, and crouched in position.

He jumped, his wings flapping hard.

He got a good ten feet off the ground. Without moving, he momentarily hovered in space for a few seconds. He bent his wings in and he immediately descended. His feet made the most wonderful dust clouds in the dirt.

He smiled wildly.

He did it again, this time getting to fifteen feet before letting himself drop. The height was a bit too much for his knees when he landed, though despite the pain, his heart thumped happily.

One more time, he thought. Just one more for, just for him, not for Douglas or his mate that had yet to show her face…

He jumped hard, wings outstretched to its fullest length. He surprised himself when that particular jump got him to the height of twenty-five feet. His smile only wavered for a moment, thinking of the best way to touch down without hurting himself. Now, if he simply glided towards the door-

A sudden gust of wind came from the east, blasting him with such force, his eyes shut closed. The wind shifted up, catching his wings, throwing the young Captain upwards into the sky, passing thirty, forty, fifty feet within a matter of moments.

"Oh- o-oh God-!"

Martin didn't know how high he was at the moment. High enough to see the whole of Fitton airport, the car park, high enough if his wings should fail, he would certainly fall to his death.

Oh God, why did he do this? He heard the stories, he's seen the tv reports, what made him think he was capable of flying by himself? He barely knew how to glide!

"Okay, okay," Martin trembled, thinking as fast as he can. He was high, but his wings were still open, still keeping him aloft. He was pilot, for fucks sake, if he can land a five-hundred ton aeroplane, he can land himself.

The air was so much different up here, so much colder. He wished he could observe more. This was what he was waiting for his whole life and now he couldn't even enjoy it.

Okay, all he had to do was glide down, gently. Yeah, do that. Do what he does with GERTI. Circle slowly until he touches down. Yeah, that was a plan. A great plan. He could do that. He could do that.

Martin shifted his wings lightly, hoping the movement will give him the needed momentum to go forward- "ARGGHH!"

The movement was a bad idea. Immediately his muscles contracted and cramped, exploding in white-hot pain across his back. His right wing collapsed and curled in on itself like a dead spider's legs. Martin was thrown, shifted to face the sky and he fell.

He didn't know how fast he was falling, he didn't know how much time until he splattered on the ground. His right wing was useless, while his left tried to move, but the strong rush of air just made it flail stupidly. Martin couldn't breathe, couldn't turn himself around, couldn't hear from the dull roar of wind flashing past his ears.

His hands were stretched out into the sky, desperately asking for its forgiveness. He was suddenly reminded of his youth, when he laid back on his tiny wings, thinking of the day that he will soon be connected with that giant, endless blue.

He couldn't believe all he got was a mere ten seconds. It wasn't fair.

He saw something at the edge of his vision. He thought it was the ground and he turned his head towards it.

It wasn't the ground.

It was Douglas.

Douglas barreled straight into him. Martin thought all the air from his lungs were gone and was proven wrong when the force of Douglas slamming into him made him grunt.

"Hang on!" Douglas cried out, his arms wrapping around Martin's torso. His wings flared out to its fullest length, a fantastic thirty feet, desperate to catch the air and slow their descent.

They were still falling too fast. Nobody's wings were designed to carry more than their own weight.

"Doug-" Martin tried to tell him. Tell him to let Martin go otherwise they will both die.

As if he heard his thoughts, Douglas gritted his teeth, tightened his hold on Martin, and just as the young man saw Fitton airport come into his eye-line, Douglas flapped once, _HARD._

For less than quarter of a second, they were suspended in a moment of zero gravity. Time seemed to have stopped for Martin, everything frozen in that small amount of space between life or death.

He could see droplets of sweat from Douglas hovering perfectly away from his face. His hair was swept back from the rush of air, his eyes so wide and glassy Martin could see himself in their reflection. His wings, his giant grey wings were stretched out, beautiful and perfect. Martin could see every feather, every individual barb. And with Fitton's early morning sun rising in the background, for that tenth of a second, Douglas looked like an angel.

Oh.

They slammed onto the ground none-too-gently, both of them giving out equal amounts of pained squeals. Martin was on his back, while Douglas half-laid on top of him, his wings dead by his side.

Martin raised one shaky arm and draped it gently across Douglas' back, too tired to give a proper hug.

Douglas, breathing so hard it sounded like it hurt, lifted his head to stare wildly at Martin. "You…" he began dangerously. "_Clot! What the hell were you thinking!"_

"Douglas-"

"Oh, shut up! Do you know what could've happen if I wasn't there? You're damn lucky I knew you were going to try this! For someone who is such a stickler for the rules, you would think you would follow your own damn advice!"

"Douglas-"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throttle you right here, right now! One damn good reason, because Martin, I'm only a few seconds away from wringing your neck-"

The arm that was around his back was suddenly around the back of his head, dragging him down. Martin lifted his head up, catching Douglas' lips in mid-rant.

"It was you," Martin said against his mouth. "It's you, it's always been you."

Martin kissed him again and again, trying to coax something out of him other than stunned stillness. Douglas was like a frozen statue, body locked so stiffly and tense.

Martin was afraid, afraid Douglas did not feel the same when his unwillingness to kiss back continued. It couldn't be, not when Martin finally realized it was he who gave him his wings. Was that how his whole life was going to be like? To find something only for it to be taken away from him?

Just as Martin pulled away, thinking he should apologize before he could fuck this up even more, Douglas' mouth descended on him, kissing him back with more teeth than lip. "You clot," he hissed between kisses. "You goddamn clot. Don't you dare ever do that to me again. I'm too fucking old."

"Sorry," Martin said, smiling. He hissed out in pain when Douglas tried to shift him closer.

Douglas pulled away at the noise, frowning. He rubbed a hand across Martin's chest, pressing against his ribs. "Do you have any broken bones?"

"No," Martin said, wincing slightly. "I think I'm just bruised."

"Well, here comes the ambulance," Douglas indicated with a nod of his head. "I think all of Fitton saw you fall."

Martin looked and saw where he was for the first time. The wind must've carried him far because he was nowhere near the OS. Instead, he and Douglas laid in the restricted field just outside the runways. The ambulance with its lights on full, bounced in the grass as it came towards them, the siren blaring loudly and echoing.

Behind them, flying their way towards them also was Arthur and Carolyn.

Martin winced. "Do you think they saw us kissing?"

"Do you care?" Douglas asked.

Martin could feel his wings ruffle in response. He couldn't move them just yet, they were still suffering from the cramp, but pleasure was slowly blooming across them. It felt wonderful.

Martin grinned. "Not really."

END


End file.
